Many Lives
by AMRainer
Summary: 'Your eyes are shining, but oh so dim' / Part 2 of the "Sky's Still Blue" series
1. Chapter 1

**Hello guys! Guess who's not dead? That'd be me lol okay, here's the first chapter of the second part of the "Sky's Still Blue Series", therefore it's a follow up to Dark Matter. I'd never force you into reading it before you go for this one, but that sure as hell would make things easier ahaha**

 **I do hope you enjoy it and welcome to this new - sweeter - work and to season 4 as well (my fave 3) ;)**

 **Thanks fo Fran for existing (AND FOR THIS AMAZING COVER) and to Lisa for saving me with the beta reading!**

 **Disclaimer: The characters are intellectual property of CBS, therefore, this is a fan work without financial gain and with the only purpose of entertainment.**

* * *

"MAYHEM"

* * *

Down in the waiting room, she rarely understood how her legs were still working, how she managed to stand there with hands tucked inside that FBI coat and mind almost drifting away. Her fingers toyed with the fabric, desperate to avoid every image, every sensation she had experienced throughout that day.

It all started with a thousand different shades of fire coloring the dark skyline, fog leaving the damage as it fumed away. Then she was gone – she was gone because their tech analyst lost their connection before she could ask about _him_. Professional, cold, distant, compartmentalization. Not a thing worked, not a thing could possibly fill that void within her. Fear, above all others, was what sustained her while they had not a clue of where _he_ was.

Dave saw it, watched closely when the brunette practically jumped from her seat right across him in the very instant the media liaison announced _he_ was alive and well – and waiting for them, matter-of-factly. Except this time, they were accompanied.

Their resident genius read through her, from the inconstant tremble gracing her hands even though she had safely hid them, shielded herself, to those vacant doe eyes flaring all her concern from the cellars. He was confused at first, interested right after, but, in the end, realization downed on him like a tidal wave. Of course, not fully – he'd never see the full picture – for his mind protected himself in the walls of a close relationship between the two of them, not an amorous one.

Although not a word would ever be said about the concerning matter, Emily Prentiss relished the comfort that she somehow could be herself, not a single worn out mask, to Spencer Reid.

Besides, that precise moment when they stood right outside his hotel's door, questioning briefly whether they should break into or demand access to the reception, it saved them a whole lot of explanation when their co-worker instinctively reached for a spare keycard.

Put aside those countless minutes that she was completely immersed in the task of gathering him some clean work clothes, her profound knowledge of where everything rested giving away so much more than she was even aware. And her goateed friend knew that, absorbed the information therefore he'd be able to help her with that specific point of keeping things in disguise.

"You okay?" her question cut through him, his reply even more sincere as he met dark concerned orbs.

He wanted to know why he remained alive, why he wasn't the one lying down on that cold hospital bed hanging by a thread. When his hand reached Kate's limp one, bent outside that devastating blue blanket, his first thought was of _her_. It could have been her, images ghosting his every rationality while she paced downstairs with her own demons scattered everywhere.

Perhaps, it had been those flames experienced, his damaged ability to listen, how she had felt a sharp rush of another feeling while that explosion tape played over and over again. They were not sure, not even capable to distinguish whether it was out on an impulse or that was what they had been craving all along, but as he made his way to her with sunken eyes, neither could suppress his lips to meet hers in a vague attempt to put it all together.

His rough palms set free her hair, got rid of that damn ponytail failing his plans to feel those silky dark locks. For a moment, brief yet unique, both forgot this was public, that Dave waited patiently with half smile, that nurses and doctors and the whole world scanned that scene with bewildered expressions.

It was all about them, all about his tongue delving into her mouth, her deft hands clasping his light shirt clad upper arms for balance, their bodies dissolving into one another. And they broke apart with tears sprinkling her lids whilst his firm forearms enveloped her slim waist to press kisses over her collarbone.

They could pretend this was routine, they could pretend this would go on as their jobs came back at them. Albeit Hotch tried to ignore her scent so close to his nostrils, he had already memorized that very faded perfume that would color his sheets during the loneliest of the nights. Emily couldn't tell the same, couldn't for that dead burnt smell from the soot resided on the crook of his neck as a tiny reminder that life was short, that she should make the most of it before it was too _fucking_ late.

Her nervous laughter turned into an excruciating pain, almost caused her to shed that risky tear that would divide whatever they were before from what they would become from this day forward. It couldn't be her to do it, _no_ , she had been the one to give, always give without ever asking for something in return.

"We should go" she whispered amidst an audible swallow, patting his back in order to bring him back from those safe walls _they_ unconsciously built around them.

* * *

There was a first time for everything - this night had been all about it if she had to be honest with herself. In that exact moment the father of one conceded to Rossi driving them back with not a single complaint, both gazes landed on him with a worried tinge. He climbed into the backseat, allowed his younger subordinate to entwine her fingers with his while his sight transfixed to the outsides as street after street guided them back to the hotel.

Glancing at the rear mirror, she connected her eyes with their goateed friend's. His message was clear, those variant lights reflected that he'd cover up for them, that _he_ needed her tonight more than any rule pointing right or wrong. Prentiss nodded, accepted this mission with one soothing arm around him and emotion driven hope surfacing everywhere.

* * *

Warm water ran down his bare body, some bruises eliciting a strangled hiss while he tried to fight that feeling of defeat. He blamed himself - for Haley and Jack going away, for almost letting Emily leave, for not saving Kate. Maybe it had been a curse, one of those chanted prophecies that said he'd never be able to save those that ever came closer to him. It was an overreaction, he was aware. But he couldn't miss the odds to these unsuccessful arrangements.

Part of him wanted to believe that evil happened in order to make him hold on to the good that surrounded him every day. Still, he rarely denied how much he wanted things to just be calm and even for a while longer. Now, Aaron Hotchner was a divorced father whose job was all he had except a certain raven-haired woman he shouldn't have in the first place.

He hated this, this screwed up life - he loved this as well, loved her body draping his in her sleep and how she'd stay with him through hell.

"Don't think" another whisper, low and quiet while she pressed her mouth to the nape of his neck, feminine arms wrapping around his hips from behind "We can think tomorrow"

A split second was enough to make him relax into that familiar warmness, her naked body pressed to his back, taut nipples brushing against his sore muscles, water cascading their close images while her face buried in damp black hair before resting on his broad shoulder. Lids hooded the weariness in her irises, relied on those precious sober minutes they stood together.

"I never asked" his voice was reticent, large hands covering small ones while he faced the not illuminated wall "What's _your_ favorite song?"

It was a stupid question, of course, almost meaningless after what they had survived through that day. Nonetheless, from somewhere within, there was a need written all over it, deep in the matter of those words that bore recollections she never considered he'd ever bring back.

Maybe those were the tears that never rolled down his cheeks. Maybe wars were not fought reasonless throughout the months they've been doing this.

Her lips curled slightly, accompanied by his even though they never perceived it " _And I don't want the world to see me, 'cause I don't think that they'd understand, when everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am_ "

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 **Please, if you can, take a minute to tell me what you think about this piece! I totally wanna know :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**Whoa guys, I'm suprised - and glad - for y'alls reviews last chapter. Really, it made my day reading them! :D As in for this new chapter, I gotta explain that the author mentioned is Kurt Vonnegut (in the end of the chapter that is). And I guess it's the first time Hotch and Emily see some action ever since Dark Matter's chapter what... 5...? I don't remember, and its definetly different from the past ahah. I do hope you enjoy it!**

 **Thanks to fran for inspiring me and to Lisa for helping me with the beta reading!**

* * *

"THE ANGEL MAKER"

* * *

Although the Unit Chief accepted a week out – one, because he couldn't sit out of it for longer than that – Emily could see that anxious tinge whenever she came around with a stack of files to debrief him on the latest occurrences. She travelled as a consultant with Reid, a two days work in Seattle and she never quite expected him to call her every single night.

It was different, softer, and albeit she wasn't particularly fond of the clinging, his eyes lingered on hers by Friday night told her just how distressed he was.

That position, that job, it had been his everything for so long – furthermore ever since Haley and Jack were gone -. Maybe parts of her believed she was one of the reasons why he missed that so much, maybe she indeed was, but he would never tell her and she wouldn't give a _damn_ by the moment their lips blended before she was able to bid him goodnight.

She was hoisted up against the door, his large masculine chest pressed against hers, long creamy legs enveloped his hips, molded to him in all those right places. It should have been just a dinner, just a small talk. Still, when he trailed butterfly kisses down her neck, careful and gentle, Emily gasped as realization struck her.

Hotch didn't carry her to bed, didn't lead her there either in order to prove to her his point. Because it was useless to keep going on like that was a game. It was much more than that, much more than anything they had experienced during those hazy nights lost along the last couple of months.

Her hand reached for the switcher, tapped it until the lights turned off to his very surprised features. It was dark as it had never been before – yet, lighter than ever -, it was dim, night-like shades enclosing their melded bodies, street lights guiding each other into oblivion. As he pounded her depths, her hips meeting his every thrust, the brunette felt an unfamiliar warmness rebuilding the bridges they so long ago burned down.

This wasn't Aaron or Emily, not those strangers they so eagerly acknowledged. This was _his_ Emily and _her_ Aaron. And it was who they dreaded for from the very beginning.

* * *

She had been worried about him whole way through it, from the moment he lied to everyone about his clearance to fly to the way he vaguely assured her that "I'm _okokok_ ". It didn't take too much to realize he wasn't, Morgan saw it, Dave moreover, but none could quite tell him that he needed to just give it more time.

When the brunette cast a glance at their goateed friend, questioned him silently whether she should walk off the graveyard to help him or just keep playing that hide and seek game, Emily suppressed her every desperation. It was excruciating to watch him struggling with it, to watch him forcing himself to such things in order to prove to no one but his own shattered conscience that he could still do it – could save people, protect people.

And it startled her the way he moved closer to her eventually, the way he knocked on her door lightly therefore he could discuss matters with her, put up with whatever she was coming up with. He asked her to stay in for that night – just that night – because he was feeling somehow invalid, useless even though he would never utter those words.

That day, mere hours after Shara Carlino promptly shoved reality on her, barked that she had never been in love, Emily met Hotch's thin lips with devotion. She wanted to feel, to uncover, to be sure of what she made clear on her features to that passionate woman and to the only person that knew the real facts about their current situation.

But the answer didn't come, not before she watched him asleep, every line softened in his slumber as he breathed calmly. It was a sight she would never forget, the pale moonlight drawing his masculine frame ever so comfortable close to hers. The younger agent's fingertip traced down his jawline, his cheekbone, followed the path down his neck, his heaving breastbone until the heel of her hand laid upon where his heart thumped gently against his ribcage.

Although considering one of Cortland's lovers opinion of her was silly, shameful almost on the so seasoned profiler, she couldn't help a sigh of relief for such fragile instant. As complicated as it was, as confused as it had been before New York, _yes_ , Emily Prentiss was _fucking_ in love with the man whose arms shifted unconsciously to pull her closer.

* * *

"How did you know about the stars?", his voice echoed through the small roadside motel, her dark eyes finally leaving the book she'd accidentally brought along in her go-bag.

Emily roamed down his form, the water drops racing down his masculine chest, following their paths therefore they could be dried as soon as they reached the towel around his hips. Short male hair was wildly damp, cheeks still flushed along with neck, that love bite she branded there minutes ago still painting the smooth skin on the nook of his neck.

Nevertheless Dave disagreed with her suggestion by the moment they had to stop by the local hotel for JJ forgot her phone, he supported her with the only reassurance that both needed to have those days off. _Together_. Rolling in bed before they could finally join back the team, work as well as the brunette duo did while in field.

Maybe it was the way he strode inside the room with secure steps, gathered his belonging and dressed his lower body with flannel pajama pants to her very eyes that made her speak. Maybe it was how he patiently waited for a reply that might never arrive. It was uncertain – had always been -, but still so sure. And Emily collected her courage to finally, _oh so_ finally, allow a crackk into her ever so steady walls.

She told him about her childhood, her father teaching her so kindly about the skies, her mother with half closed eyes telling her tales that she would cherish for dear life. There was a dark side, a cold hollowness common in both of their lives – she guessed back then, only guessed because he wouldn't tell her just yet and she would _never_ push. It all unraveled by that very minute Elizabeth became the Ambassador Prentiss – the slow downhill of her parents' marriage, the easy undoing of mother and daughter relationship.

Out of habit, the Unit Chief perused the book's cover, acquired the information just in case he needed it in the upcoming future. Later on, when that shivering breeze elicited their bodies to search for each other in their sleep, Hotch took that brief period to breathe in the nape of her neck, his arms tightening only the tiniest around her – insecure, perhaps – until a sleepy grin plastered on her face.

"If this isn't nice, I don't know what is." she recognized immediately, turning inside his arms in order to soak her nostrils with his aftershave, in order to memorize that safe scent that had now morphed into a part of her as much as it became a part of _them_.

Resting atop the nightstand, wise sentences lived one after the other, her favorite author attesting that _yes_ , he was happy, and so was she. Even though their dark agent expressed his disapproval on her joining their superior for this short trip, even though their blonde liaison had trusted her blindly since Texas and their resident genius fiercely believed their friendship was simply solidifying. It was something to worry about some other day – tomorrow, in a week, they didn't know precisely. Yet, there was something planted, _different_ , growing and readying in long tormented breaths.

Disclosure never seemed so tempting, never sounded so right.

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 **Well well, I always wanted Emily to join Hotch when he came back driving lmao and I guess that's when my first idea for this fic appeared huh. If you can, please, take a minute to tell me what you think about this chapter! I'd love to read from you :3**


	3. Chapter 3

**Now I remember why I love writing this work. Really, I guess this turned out to be more about personal gratification ahsahs. And still there are some new issues coming, bc oh well, life is not only happiness. There was a teaser during Dark Matter but now we are gonna have further problems with a certain ex-wife * sighs * I don't hate Haley, I just dislike her deeply lol I hope you enjoy it!**

 **The last beta'd chapter is this one, so thanks Lisa for this! But I guess I'm going sans beta from now on. Ofc, if you know someone that wants to help, just let me know ;)**

* * *

"MINIMAL LOSS"

* * *

Those months had been quiet, somewhere amid the battles the team fought every day, they found a way to fit in – together, alone. Their schedule was replaced with occasional sneaks to grab a bite during lunchtime, maybe a dinner whenever he decided to come up with a new recipe, even movies once when she practically dragged him out in order to prove to him how much of a loner he needn't to be. Not anymore, at least.

Their blonde liaison stomach slowly rounded, gave them an invigorating hope in life, in humanity, in love albeit that was something with further complications for both. His hearing was better, improving each second her mouth pressed so close to his ear, whispered her needs in the throes of passion or just chanted to that sleepy smile that eventually plastered on his handsome features.

Jack had now marks on the doorframe, small graffiti lines attesting time blowing them apart in its natural pace. It was her suggestion to create such thing, such tiny reminder to him that he was much more than just a job, that he had something greater to live for. But it was accidental, torturing, that very moment his bell rang and she called after him – once, twice, three times – during a lazy Saturday morning.

He was packing for the next week, getting his go-bag ready for another period. She was in the kitchen, long creamy legs bare to anyone's eyes, tousled hair cascading down her man's shirt clad shoulders as she attempted to fix herself a cup of coffee. Her eyes met his figure gathering his garments, eventually disappearing into his suite's bathroom before he finally caught a glimpse of her female image standing in the hallway.

"Haley is here" steady voice seared the space between them, still embarrassed for what had just happened in his living room "You didn't pick up"

And he was clueless, that so usual Hotchner frown deepening as though he had witnessed the greatest absurdity in quite a while. The father of one sprinted down the hall, took in her skimpily dressed figure before he disappeared to where his son remained silently asleep in his mother's secure arms.

Albeit he hated that look in her eyes, despised that agonizingly torturous judgment she was building within her about his not so upright actions, Aaron couldn't deny that maybe this felt just right enough – familiar enough – to him by now. Masculine arms closed around the sandy haired boy, cradled him with care until he was able to bid the blonde adieu.

"I should get going", Emily announced as soon as the older agent tucked the still 2 years-old in bed, her outfit sparkling some unexpected bit of lust in his self-controlled fibers.

" _Stay_ ", he offered sheepishly as his grip on her wrist pulled her flush against his chest, _his_ large button-up contrasting with those dark jeans and that delicious scent of her crawling up his nostrils until it sank in his memory. It wasn't only her, it was _them_. And that thought both aroused and startled him at the same time.

Nevertheless, her – starving – lips lingered on his for few minutes before she was a mere ghost for him to dream of, it sure wasn't an outstanding surprise that instant that his boy wrapped his arms around his legs as he gleefully thanked his father for a gift found right inside his huge toy box. Green foil paper, a huge black ribbon with imprinted dinosaurs, a Lego set one week before the great day. Hotch smiled in amusement, shook his head to avoid the thoughts of Emily Prentiss as he crouched down to help Jack on the apparently too tricky task of building up _her_ present to him _._

* * *

A light knock on her door brought her back from those unyielding memories, engraved in her mind eternally even though she tried her best to compartmentalize. It was all for Spencer, all in order to keep him safe, keep him going after what happened with Tobias Hankel in the first place. He was improving every day, the help group affecting him for the best. And she would do anything in her power to still things in his goddamn life.

She could almost sense Cyrus' knuckles striking her skin, the back of his hand so violent against her cheekbones, his grip on her hair vicious as he led her to that random room. Where he ripped her of any humanity, caused to surface only the Agent on a mission seeking for somebody else's survival but hers.

His defeated posture, shoulders tense and slumped down and showing every emotion he possessed while the Unit Chief remained wordless at her front door, elicited a desperate pain within her, an undeniable weakness surfacing. Maybe she should have stepped aside to let him in, maybe she should have told him she needed a second to herself.

Yet, she was scared of being alone for now. She was exhausted, her ribcage plainly brushing against her flesh, making her sense every heave her chest performed, and it took her whole self-control not to crumble down on the cold floor – wait for his embrace to carry her through that rest of day.

It did, though. Careful arms closed around her body, held on for dear life albeit he shouldn't even be there. Thin lips murmured in the silky curtain of hair, soothed her back and those tears that never came finally were shed. Prentiss could taste the salty droplets tickling her fair skin. That specific chapter of her life, the ever so wordy brunette wasn't able to share anything but fingertips digging into his firm biceps.

Her dark orbs were fogged with another sensation, not a single drop rolling down her cheeks as her head was placed on his broad shoulder, her knees on the floor tangled with his own confusing position. They remained quiet, relished on each other more than they should. Guilty ate him up; pain ate her up.

"I-" he stopped mid-sentence, her mouth finding his to shut him up before it was too late for those words to leave his musings in the correct place and time.

Emily knew she shouldn't do this, shouldn't suggest something like that in this kind of situation because they have been there a few months ago and it was far away from the type of relationship they led in that very moment – it was about comfort, about using physical to get off on the emotional. Still, she pushed him down the floor, flung her tongue inside his heated caved in time for him not to protest.

He needn't to be objective that night, needn't to be himself either. Perhaps, Aaron should come back for those minutes, that bastard capable of driving her into oblivion with each harsh flex of his male hips. But it wasn't him anymore, and his gun-callused digits pulled her away, cupped the cheek without that dark bruise proving that life was not only about the two of them and those periods they lingered together. Dark glassy eyes reflected his own, their faces ever so close that it hurt not to reach out and simply complete what they were aching for, his sitting position whilst she vaguely placed herself on hands and knees adding both awkwardness to the situation and that small lasting arousal.

Hotch could feel her strangled breath against his face, mixing with his ragged one until the space between them was filled with the unspoken. Every sound he wished he hadn't heard through those earphones came back to him, her uncertain tone telling them that she could handle it however every and each of his nerve endings begged him to ignore the protocol, take her out of there in that very second, prove to Cyrus with his own fists what he really was – a _son-of-a-bitch_ nonetheless.

"I do, too" she nodded slightly, tears beginning to form in the rim of her eyes as an startled gleam painted his features, caused his mouth to curve into a grin. Emily couldn't quite pinpoint whether he was grateful for her words or just contemplating something else she wasn't able to picture.

Once again, silence built up, escalated in faltering steps while he combed his fingers through her hair, claimed her lips one last time before the Unit Chief finally collected his courage to press a gentle kiss to her hand, to guide her feminine palm to cup his jaw and receive her thumb caressing his skin in return. He told her then and there, that he was indeed scared, that he was worried and lonely, but, most of all, the father of one spoke those very words with only his features as she trailed a warm salty droplet that refused to fall. ' _I thought I'd lose you, I can't lose you, I can't.'_

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 **Please, if you can, take a minute to leave a review and tell me what you think! I'd love to hear from you :)**


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